


Afterglow

by ClillaryHinton



Category: GLOW (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-27 06:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16697449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClillaryHinton/pseuds/ClillaryHinton
Summary: Vegas and emotional wrestling.





	1. Every Breath You Take

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yotoob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yotoob/gifts).



> I was going to write a short smutty one-off and then this happened, whatever “this” is. 
> 
> This is, for Yotoob NOT BECAUSE SHE/THEY/PREFERRED PRONOUN KNOWS ME OR IS IN ANY WAY ASSOCIATED WITH THIS SHITSHOW. But if I hadn’t read her stories, this bit of random Belle Destroyer tourettes would probably not have happened, tbh. 
> 
> Rated M because of girl-on-girl hot monkey lurrve. 
> 
> I’m sorry and/or you’re welcome.

Sam was right. Ruth hated Las Vegas. But wrestling in front of a huge live Vegas audience? She LOVED that. How ironic: when she finally got a lead on stage, it was in front of an audience of glitz-drunk slot jockeys in the capital of neon, rhinestone and bad taste. It wasn't exactly Miss Julie, but she had been a heel in that too, in a way, as Kristin the cook. She'd had no idea back then that Ruth Wilder would be all about heels.

Their new motel wasn't exactly Caesar's Palace, either. But she totally got that Ray wanted to make sure the show was a hit before paying for expensive digs for his headliners. It was still a huge step up from the Dusty Spur. They even had their own rooms, each with its own theme of great American sights. She had switched with Sheila when she discovered that her room was Yellowstone themed with a howling wolf forest mural, which had earned her a teary-eyed bear hug. Besides, her new Grand Canyon themed room was an apt analogy of her life.

"That was sweet of you."

Debbie sounded slightly surprised, like she had forgotten Ruth could be kind, and not just a homewrecker. She watched the exchange from the doorway of the presidential suite, because of course she would be in the presidential suite. It was neither a suite nor very presidential, apart from the huge mural of Mount Rushmore and the tacky constitution wallpaper, but who else would you put in there but your star, the all-American Liberty Belle. Debbie, who possibly, maybe, didn’t hate her anymore. If someone told her that letting Debbie break one of her limbs was the price of getting her friendship back, she might have broken it herself. Because Ruth may hate Las Vegas, but she loved being Liberty Belles heel. And for better or for worse, she still loved Debbie Eagan, no matter how many bones she broke.

It didn't mean Debbie didn't still run hot and cold and had days when she seemed furious with her. But it wasn't every single day anymore. They had good days too. Well… Not in the very beginning. They started off their Vegas stint in the worst possible way. And as usual, it was Ruth’s fault.

***

The day after arrival they spent discovering Las Vegas on Ray's dime. Jennie, Melrose, Dawn and Stacey were beside themselves with joy at their new neon hunting grounds. Carmen, Reggie and Sheila looked like fish out of water and Tammé worried about people spending money they didn't have in the casinos. It wasn't Cherry's first Vegas rodeo and her face clearly said "been there done that". Arthie and Yolanda had snuck off somewhere on their own. Ruth wasn't a neon-and-casinos girl. She mostly spent the day enjoying the truce between her and Debbie. Debbie even smiled at her when they talked. It was such a relief to be some sort of semblance of casual or normal with her again.

But then, the next day was training day.

***

There was a loud buzz of voices in the locker room and an almost giddy atmosphere when Ruth walked in. She was excited about getting back to training too. Why wouldn't she be? Her leg was fine, she and Debbie were doing better. There was even a half decent locker room now, that didn't smell like sweaty feet and broken dreams.  

Sam wanted them in full costume and makeup since Ray had gotten a photographer in to do publicity shots. So, Debbie was already a big-haired, shiny, glittery sensation. Ruth was staring at her, she knew that. She'd caught herself staring at Debbie a lot lately, but she shook it off. Debbie was gorgeous, everyone stared at her.

Nothing could have prepared them for the sheer size of their new venue, dwarfing the wrestling ring in the middle. Ruth felt equal parts excitement and terror at the prospect of having to fill it and keep the audience entertained. She saw some variation on that theme on all their faces. Where they in over their heads here?

They want pictures of Zoya and Liberty Belle in the ring. Why wouldn't they? They're a team and Debbie's the heroine and Ruth's the villain. Ruth loves wrestling Debbie. She does. So why does she feel like this? Sam senses her hesitation. She has time to wonder when Sam Sylvia of all people became perceptive of people's feelings, before stepping into the ring.

"Are you OK with this?"

Debbie looks at him and frowns.

”Ruth’s fine. We're fine now.”

Debbie turned to her.

”You’re good, right?”

Sam and Debbie looked at her with their own different expectations written on their face. She couldn’t let them down. She couldn’t let Debbie down again.

"Sure!" Ruth replied with all the cheer of a demented Anne of Green Gables and a smile so wide her cheeks ached. She wanted to be. But her body remembered the white-hot pain shooting through, with the sickening pop after Debbie's all too effective lock and twist. She hated that they had to start out like this, surrounded by cameras. Their first time after the accident, she’d wanted it to be just them. She’d planned on talking to Debbie about meeting after hours and train, so they could ease into it.

Her heart beat uncomfortably fast and she felt bile rise as Debbie approached her in the ring.

The first move went well, fake slamming Debbie into a post was fine. When Debbie got her in a headlock, she fumbled with her next move, hyper aware that Debbie was stronger than her.

”Are you OK?”

Ruth nodded in fake bravery.

After a hair mare, Liberty Belle grabbed her leg and started to pull her back. The muscle memory of pain made Ruth jerk away from Debbie's hands, kicking and scrambling clumsily backward away from the perceived threat. She'd had no idea she would react that way before it happened, it was pure instinct.

"Great. You've traumatized your heel. This will be wonderful for the storyline." Sam's voice dripped with sarcasm as he turned to Debbie. Ruth knew he was just trying to stay on top of things in new and unfamiliar territory, but she had no patience with his insecurities right now.

"OK, so you two shouldn't wrestle for a while, since Ruth's obviously scared of you. Understandable, considering that you broke her leg and all."

"Really, Sam? You're not helping!"

Ruth stared daggers at him.

Debbie stood there frozen for a few seconds, before she teared up and slid out the ring.

”Debbie! Come on, wait!”

Ruth watched her storm out with a sinking feeling that they had taken several steps backward.

Tammé went after her. Because she and Debbie were friends now: the kind of friend you turned to when you were upset. Like Ruth and Debbie used to be.

Sheila came up to her.

”Hey. Look it’s a pretty natural…” 

”I REALLY don’t need a lecture on wolf behavior right now!”

Ruth knew she would have to apologize to Sheila later. But it was all she could do not to break down and cry too. Being polite was too much to ask.

***

She got through the photoshoot somehow. Sam sent her home after that, saying she shouldn't overdo it on the first day, but she knew it was so that they could bring the star of the show back without the risk of another breakdown. Sure, she felt bad about being unprofessional, but terrible about hurting Debbie again.

She tried to read. Melrose asked if she wanted to join her and Jennie for a drink that evening, but she said no. She couldn't stop thinking of Debbie's face when she flinched away long enough to make sense of something else. So, she stopped trying.  

***

Debbie had been crying when she opened the door. Ruth's heart broke when she saw her red rimmed eyes.

”Can we...talk?”

”I can’t do this now. Just leave me alone.”

Suddenly, Ruth was angry.

”Get changed.”

”What? No.”

”I said, get changed. We’re going training, right now.”

"Do you know what time it is? I'm not going to go fucking training with you, Ruth."

"I don't care."

She stepped into Debbie’s personal space.

”If you don’t go change, I will knock on your door every five minutes all night until you give up.”

***

Debbie didn't say much on the short walk to the gym. A few short, annoyed zingers. But Ruth saw the worried frown on her forehead and the nervous picking at her hem of her jacket. She got it: she was scared too. What if something was broken between them? What they couldn't find their way back to the magic they'd had in the ring?

The doorman looked at them like they were crazy.

"Now? I'm not sure I can allow that, no one told me there'd be training at this hour…"

"You can call Ray and confirm that we have access to the facility…"

"Or you can just step aside before the headliner of a women's wrestling show throws you over her fucking head because she doesn't have time for your crap. How does that sound?"

The guard didn't say anything as he unlocked the heavy door. Debbie could be scary when she put her mind to it.

They stood awkwardly facing each other in the ring. This used to be their space. Now it was another no-go-zone in their fraught relationship. But someone had to try to demilitarize this zone.

"Hug me?"

Debbie looked away.

”No. We’re not friends. I don’t want to hug.”

”I know that. But I need to not be afraid of you. So, you’re going to have to hug me, OK?”

Debbie rolled her eyes and stepped closer. She froze when Ruth wrapped her arms around her but relaxed a little as she stubbornly held on. It was stiff, but still: it was some sort of semblance to a hug. Ruth felt like crying too now. She had missed this so much. She and Debbie used to hug all the time. Physical contact had been so easy between them, right from the start. Ruth felt starved without it. She wanted… She wasn't even sure what she wanted. Just _more._

She let go and sat down on the mat. Debbie looked down on her.

"Did you want me to touch you to see if I'd break something?"

"It's not that I don't trust you, it was a knee jerk reaction. Like that time in scene study class when George kicked Mr. Bernstein in the nuts?"

Debbie joined her, but at a safe distance.

"I broke your fucking leg, Ruth. You're right to be afraid of me. You shouldn't want me to touch you."

"Maybe. But I do. I heard you went to see Wayne Newton. Any good?"

"Really Ruth? We're in the middle of some sort of amateur hour trauma counselling and you want to talk about Wayne fucking Newton?"

"I didn't think he was your taste in music."

"Ray took me, it was some sort of tour of the Vegas strip, make his new headliner feel welcome, whatever. Not exactly optional to attend."

"Was it a... date?"

Ruth got a strange feeling in her stomach. A cold discomfort.

"Weirdly, I think he actually likes his wife, so no."

Ruth sighed. She'd thought she'd picked a completely harmless subject, a Vegas show. And here they were again, having to dodge adultery and husbands. There were still so many hurtful things they could say to each other. She let out a relieved sigh when Debbie decided to ignore that particular topic and move on. And because Debbie hadn’t been on a date. That one, she would have to unpack later.

"There was this pineapple thing in the first part, so goddamn weird, you would have died."

When she started talking, Debbie put a reluctant hand on her ankle. It was a feather light touch.

Ruth laughed, but not at the pineapple thing, even if it was really funny. Debbie had always been the best storyteller. She laughed out of pure relief that she didn't flinch like some abused animal when Debbie touched her. She felt her heart rate slow down.

When the story was over, she stood up.

"Throw me?"

"What? No."

"Please? Just put me in a headlock or something? Nothing complicated. I want Sam to walk in here at the end of the week and see us be fine in the ring."

”Ruth… We both know you could wrestle anyone and still be entertaining, it doesn't have to be me.”

”Please?”

Debbie took a deep, shaky breath. 

"OK."

Ruth smiled at her.

"Don't look so damn happy, I might freak you out again.”

Ruth could see how nervous Debbie was as she bounced on the ropes to gain momentum.

”Duck for clothesline!”

She did, even though her heart raced and her palms were clammy. She didn’t flinch away, she ducked, like she was supposed to.

Ruth bounced back up and they smiled at each other.

”Again?”

Ruth nodded.

”Real one this time?”

Debbie was fast and there was no time for hesitation. Ruth laughed again when she hit the floor. She was starting to feel like herself. Debbie laughed too.

They ran through some more uncomplicated moves and Debbie kept well away from Ruth's ankle in an unspoken agreement.

"Should we do this again tomorrow?"

Ruth smiled up at Debbie from her half sitting position post-body slam.

"We probably should, yeah."

Debbie sighed.

”I’m sorry I broke your leg.”

”I know. I’m sorry too.”

Ruth didn’t specify. There was so much to be sorry for, Debbie could just take her pick.

***

Back at the hotel, Debbie stopped outside of Ruth's room. She had a strange look on her face and for a minute, Ruth expected some sarcastic barb when Debbie softly said ”I love wrestling you. You’re my favourite.”

She put her hand on Ruth’s shoulder and gave it a half squeeze. It was awkward, like everything between them that wasn’t actual wrestling these days. Then Debbie remembered herself and pulled her shoulders back, like this was a moment of temporary weakness she needed to shake off. Ruth didn’t realize she hadn’t responded until she was already gone.

She spent half an hour crying in her room. It seemed like the first spontaneously kind thing Debbie had said to her since Ruth betrayed her. She remembers this feeling, almost like a muscle memory of how Debbie used to be with her. How she used to feel light inside when Debbie smirked at her and made an in joke on someone else’s expense. Back when Ruth and Debbie were a ’we’ and everyone else a ’them’.

She stood outside of Debbie’s door again, with clammy, nervous hands. She knocked, softly.

”Hi…”

Debbie looks surprised to see her, but not angry or disappointed, to Ruth’s relief.

”Hi.”

”So…I just wanted to say that… You’re my favourite too.”

”OK.”

Debbie’s voice was still soft. It was all Ruth could do not to reach out and hug her or make some desperate plea for them to hang out that would be summarily refused again.

”Yeah, so I just wanted to say…that. So, I’m going to go. Now.”

She lingered for a second in silence, clinging to the hope that Debbie might ask her to stay and they could stay up all night talking, like they used to before Mark and Randy and… Ruth broke Debbie’s heart in a million pieces. And Debbie broke hers, almost daily.

She didn’t, of course. Ruth reached for Debbie’s hand, but chickened out and ended up just brushing the tips of her fingers before she pulled back. And then a miracle happened. Debbie answered with a little squeeze, not really taking Ruth’s hand fully in hers, but still something vaguely similar to affection.

Then she stepped back into her room and shut the door gently. Not in anger, just to show that the moment between them was over. Ruth stayed for a few moments, listening to the soft rustle of Debbie moving on the other side of the door.

***

"We're hugging again?"

"Yes."

Debbie rolled her eyes, but it seemed half-hearted, because she walked into Ruth's arms with much less reluctance than yesterday. It was still a little stiff, but she hugged back.

"I don't know why you keep wearing this thing, it's awful."

Debbie took the fabric of Ruth's old worn leotard, her favorite, and between her index finger and thumb and pulled at it playfully. All of Ruth's focus turned to the feeling of Debbie's finger sliding along the skin of her clavicle. She didn't flinch. Actually, it was sort of the opposite of flinching, which might be even more worrying.

"It's comfortable."

The wrestling felt more comfortable too, at least compared to yesterday, but she can tell that Debbie's still cautious when she touches her. Maybe it’s because the grip is unusually soft that she notices Debbie’s breast against her cheek in the headlock. Or why the feeling of Debbie's hipbone against her inner thigh is distracting when she straddles her after a throw. The two worlds were bleeding into each other, Zoya and Liberty Belle, Ruth and Debbie, especially here in the dark arena, just the two of them in the ring. Debbie is achingly beautiful in the half-light and Ruth's grateful she has an excuse to stare at her.

Debbie puts her hand on Ruth’s hip and slides slowly down.

”Is this OK?”

Ruth nods, noticing how Debbie’s warm hand is much more than OK against her naked skin. She didn’t even notice that she'd stopped right above the break until Debbie looked up at her with a rare vulnerability.

”Do you...still feel it?”

”No, it’s fine. Doesn’t hurt anymore.”

”Good.”

Ruth wanted to put her hand over Debbie’s heart and ask if her best friend’s betrayal still hurt there. Debbie would probably call her melodramatic. Or be angry with her again and she couldn’t cope with that right now. It was safer to stick with what they were good at.

”Body slam me.”

”Are you sure we’re ready for that?”

”I’m ready for you.”

Debbie comes running for her and Ruth's heart races, but she stands there and takes it and when she doesn't show any hesitation, she's so grateful she could cry. There's palpable relief on Debbie's face.

Debbie bounces off the ropes and pins her against a post. She grabs fistfuls of Ruth's hair to throw her but stays still for a few seconds. She's warm and soft and hard in all the right places and Ruth's treacherous body responds in all the wrong ways. From their position, you can't know if it's a kiss or a wrestling move that's about to happen.

"Are you OK?"

Ruth swallows.

"Yes."

_No._

But for wrestling purposes, yes.

”I’m not gonna let you have that crown again, so you’re going to have to work harder.”

Ruth smiled at her.

”I know.”

Right now, wrestling was almost the least of her problems. How Debbie made her feel when she pressed her up against the ropes was a far bigger one. Or how much Ruth wanted her to stay every time she walked away.

***

The next day, Debbie showed up at her door, impatient to leave, like private night time training sessions was her idea. Ruth smiled. So very Debbie to need to be in the lead role in real life too.

They still started with a hug. This time, Debbie squeezed back a little, stood a little closer, or at least that's what Ruth tried to tell herself. But she did hold on for a little bit longer, that wasn't just in her head.

Debbie was almost up to her normal intensity, not walking on eggshells around her anymore. She got Ruth in a chokehold and molded her own body after hers and Ruth tried not to think about how her breasts and stomach felt pressed against her back, or how she was close enough to kiss her with her head bent back like this. Once she realized that a lot of wrestling moves would just be sex positions if you weren’t wearing clothes, that thought was hard to shake.

Toward the end of the session, they did one of Debbie's jumps and they pulled it off with flying colors.

"Are you OK?"

Ruth nodded quickly. She was fine, apart from the fact that Debbie's soft curves against her own made her react in a complicated and inconvenient way. Ironically, it distracted her from other physical reactions, like pain and fear.

***

The next night, Ruth felt like it was a life time ago she had freaked out in the ring. They had done the work and spent hours here alone, grunting and sweating. Tomorrow, they had a whole thing planned out where Sam would walk in in the morning and see them casually throw each other around like nothing had happened.

Debbie actually initiated the pre-training hug this time, maybe just to get it over with, but Ruth had learned to take what she could get.

"Let's do the match, like we planned it? And the... last part?”"

They both know exactly which match she's talking about. Debbie doesn't bother to pretend she doesn't. It's a risk, Ruth knows that. But she has to take it.

And the last part, a.k.a the bit where her former best friend broke a bone in her body in A: an accident caused by emotional instability on the breakers part or B: an accident caused by seething, lingering and/or subconscious resentment on the breakers part, that was possibly caused by the breakees harboring of the same feelings. Ruth had no way of knowing there was also an alternative C, so that wasn't part of the thought process.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. Anything to distract herself from her newly admitted, confusing feelings for Debbie.

Debbie's hands were sweaty and awkward when she grabbed her leg. Ruth felt strangely calm. She looked over her shoulder at Debbie.

"I trust you."

The moment she said it, she knew it was true. She trusted Debbie not to hurt her again.

Debbie took a deep, unsteady breath and then, just like that the sequence was over and they were still fine.

***

Debbie says she needs some air and they go and sit outside of the gym. The Vegas night air is pleasant, and Ruth feels lighter than in a long time.

”I’m quitting. This is the last one.”

It’s what Debbie says every time she lights a cigarette. Ruth says ”OK.” like she does every time. They’ve started to form a new rhythm between them. They sit in companionable silence for a while and Ruth manages not to do or say anything that will ruin the moment, even though there are so many things she wants to tell her, and so many questions to ask.

Debbie takes Ruth’s arm and shrugs into her, so they end up in some sort of half-hug with Ruth’s arm around her shoulders.

”This isn’t a hug. Just so you know.”

”OK…”

Ruth tried to sit as still as she could, not leaning away, but not moving closer either, letting Debbie decide the boundaries.

”So...What is it?”

”It’s a fucking therapeutic lean,” Debbie muttered.

Ruth waits a few seconds, before putting her head on Debbie’s shoulder. Debbie takes a long puff and lets her.

***

The day after, they moved casually around the ring trying to make it look like it was nothing. Melrose tried to claim that she had dibs that morning, but Debbie gave her a look that said there might be another broken bone if she wasn't careful and she relented.

Sam walked in and Ruth whispered, "On three?" and Debbie nodded and suplexed the shit out of her, like she's Zoya the Destroya and not pathetic Ruth Wilder with her leg in a cast, looking longingly at Liberty Belle facing off with Welfare Queen.

She rolls with Debbie's punches and they're down on the floor, smiling at each other. Debbie climbs the ropes and Ruth's catch is perfectly timed, like it used to be.

Sam shrugs.

"You know what? Whatever, you win."

Ruth goes after him, bouncing eagerly on the balls of her feet.

"So, we can wrestle each other? You'll put us back in the show?"

Sam shrugged again and gave Ruth an unamused look.

"I should have known you would find a way to get Debbie back in the ring whatever I think of it, just like she does."

"What do you mean?"

"Debbie convinced me to put you back in the ring with that weird dance routine that wasn't even wrestling back when I was pissed at you. It's like you two exist symbiotically and can't live without each other. She broke your leg and here you fucking are, pleading her case to get her back in the ring with you. I wish you two would just make up your minds whether you're enemies or… something else, I don't know, your relationship is too damn weird."

Ruth was well aware of the fact that her and Debbie's relationship was weird. But not even Sam in a grouchy mood could bring her down today. Liberty Belle and Zoya were back, and she would treasure every bruise that Debbie had given her. She basked in the soft, warm glow of knowing that Debbie had stood up for her back when they were hardly even talking.

***

There were a few letters exchanged between her and Russell, but further and further apart. Phone calls were rare. It fizzled out when Ruth realized she didn’t really miss him. They finally agreed that it was over and no hard feelings. She truly wished him well.

Debbie had hated Russell. Ruth remembered vividly how she had hovered over them and sabotaged any attempt at getting together in the beginning of their awkward attempts at dating. Their only fight had been when Russell had called Debbie a bitch for doing that and Ruth had heard herself angrily defending her, even though she was actively trying to sabotage her love life. She had gone over things in her head and she couldn’t think of single time when she had chosen Russell over Debbie. After all, the woman who put her there had been the first person Ruth asked for at the hospital.

Debbie kept finding faults with guys who got close to them in any way. Ruth realized gradually that Debbie wouldn’t like any man who was interested in Ruth. At first, during the first season filming, she’d assumed it was vindictiveness. Now she didn’t know what to make of it. Russell had been easy. Debbie was anything but. 

Ruth talked to the hot young janitor, who’s charmingly awkward around so many women in various stages of nakedness. It was only a few minutes before Ruth heard soft wrestling shoed steps behind her. She didn’t have to look behind her to know who it was.

”Ruth, are you coming?”

”Sure.”

She shrugged apologetically and followed Debbie, like she always did.

***

Then, Debbie went on a date, out of the blue and Ruth felt like finding the bastard and turn into Zoya the Destroya on him. Maybe her feelings for Debbie weren't so complicated after all.

And she did. Sort of. But it started out as something way less dignified. So, maybe Ruth happened (totally planned to) overhear (eavesdrop on) Debbie when she made plans and just accidentally (with extreme effort and careful planning) glanced at the note with the address for the restaurant where they were meeting and casually (with the careful deliberation of a Prussian general) managed to take a walk past (totally stalk) the place where her ex best friend (whatever complicated thing Debbie was to her now) was on a date to check that she was OK (see what asshole thought he was good enough for beautiful, funny, brilliant, one-of-a-kind Debbie Eagan) and having a good time (secretly wish for him to choke on something).

She shouldn't have walked past the window on the same side as the restaurant, she knew that. When Debbie immediately spotted her and knocked on the glass to get her attention, she had this whole little surprised pantomime planned out, _What? You here? Wow, what a surprise? And who's this? A date? Ah! Surprise!_ And so forth. She didn't need any of that. Debbie gestured at her to come inside and when she wasn't fast enough, she made a gesture that Ruth recognized all too well as Debbie-ese for "what's taking you so damn long?"

"Debbie, hi… I didn't know…"

"This guy's been talking about his collection of vintage cars for two hours straight and now I want to kill myself. Apparently, I'm a shitty actress because I'm drawing a blank on excuses to leave. He's a big-time producer, so I can't just ask him to go fuck himself. There must be something from scene study class you can use."

"Ooh, I think I can do better than that."

"Make Mr. Bernstein proud."

A tall, handsome man with sandy hair and chiseled features comes walking back to the table. Needless to say, Ruth disliked him immediately.

She puts her best tragedy face on, channeling all the sad Chekov heroines she'd ever auditioned.

”I mean… He’ll never be able to father a child, but he’s not married, so maybe that doesn’t matter. But they said say he might walk again, so that’s great news!”

Ruth put her hand over Debbie’s on the table.

”He told me to tell you that it’s not your fault. He’s never wanted kids anyway.”

"Dale, this is Ruth. We work together."

Debbie’s date looked at Ruth with what seemed to be a beginning tick above his left eye.

"Sorry to barge in, I just came to give Debbie an update on our...friend." 

"I’m sorry...What's exactly is going on here?”

”Debbie’s a really good wrestler. A little too good, maybe…”

Ruth let her lower lip tremble dramatically.

”They shouldn’t let her wrestle men, it’s not...safe.”

Debbie morphed into her Soap Opera Face **™**. She let her eyelashes flutter and sighed.

”I just get a little... angry sometimes. But Ruth says he'll walk again.”

She looked up at her date with the insane eyes of pre-coma Laura Morgan.

”You know what, ladies, it’s getting late and you obviously have a lot to talk about, so I’m just going to head on out.”

”No no, stay! She’s not going to hurt you, that usually only happens in the ring!”

”Yes, only sometimes.”

Debbie added with a hint of Liberty Belles southern accent, only with a twist of insanity.

They burst out laughing after he left, and everything felt gloriously normal for a moment.

”That was evil. You have obviously outgrown scene study class.”

”Do you miss her?”

”Who, Laura Morgan? No.”

”Never?”

”Coma year, never. Before that? Maybe. I did enjoy that storyline when I went batshit crazy and burned the boathouse down.”

”And that thing with your scorned lover…”

”Yeah, OK. That was pretty great. But I love wrestling more.”

”Really?”

”Yup.”

Debbie orders cake. She shovels a spoonful into her mouth, closes her eyes and moans. Ruth smiles. There are a lot of perks with being a wrestler.

”I love how you can eat ANYTHING when you wrestle.”

”No more Jane Fonda.”

”Fuck Jane Fonda.” Debbie agreed between bites.

Ruth said it mostly to create a connection. She’s always been able to eat whatever without putting on weight. Not that she could afford to eat, but still. It used to drive Debbie crazy.

”I might actually have a burger after this. I’ve been on a diet since I was 14 and I am _done._ ”

Debbie has a dab of icing on her chin: a small imperfection on her perfect face. Ruth leans over to her.

”Let me just…”

She swipes it off with her thumb, puts it in her mouth and licks it off. Debbie stares at her. Ruth feels her cheeks heating up under her gaze and she doesn’t quite know why.

Too forward? Or just annoying and aggravating, like Debbie finds so many things she does, post Mark? She would have done it without hesitation back when they were still friends. And Debbie with her. Maybe it’s just the familiarity of the gesture that makes Debbie look at her with fire in her eyes. Ruth half expects her to snap at her.

Ruth keeps thinking about that look as they walk back to the motel.

”Hey!”

Ruth turned around.

”Thanks for all the… insanity back there.”

”No problem, I’ll ruin any future date you might have, just let me know!”

She finished with a flippant little salute and put on her Zoya face.

”In Soviet Union, government give you real man, not so much sissy.”

Debbie indulged her with a smile and Ruth felt warm inside.

***

Needless to say, Sam got in a huge fight with Ray before opening night. Ruth would have been more surprised if he hadn't. A movie director with an underdog complex way out of his comfort zone in the live show Mecca of the world? What could go right?

Justine came to visit and was greeted by all like the prodigal daughter, which she actually was, to a certain extent. Before she left, Sam got in a huge fight with her too, about some random, made-up problem. Ruth was pretty sure he threw a tantrum because he didn't know how to use his words to tell Justine that he loved her, missed her and wanted her to come back. That on top of fighting with Ray and hating the Vegas setup made him go on another binge-drinking rampage and no-one could find him. Then Ruth remembered that Sam had waxed nostalgic about some dive bar at the outskirts of town, where he had picked a stripper up and done peyote for the first time.

"Maybe Ruth should go up there and try to find him."

Cherry was exasperated, but like Ruth, she had half expected a meltdown at some point.

It made Debbie furious. Ruth had almost forgotten how scary Debbie was when she was angry.

”Ruth’s not Sam’s mom. Let him fend for himself for a change, that’s what the rest of us do. If he wants to fuck up, let him fuck up.”

”I’m just worried that he’ll get hurt or do something to hurt the show. End up in prison, you know...?”

Ruth knew Debbie had a point, but Sam had been there for her, even if she couldn't tell Debbie that.

”Send... Rhonda, I don't know. someone he likes. Not me obviously, he hates me. Managing Sam shouldn’t always have to be your fucking job.”

”You know he likes Ruth way better than the rest of us, even when he pretends not to. I mean, you’re right, he probably hates you, but Sam only pretends to hate Ruth, you know that, right?”

Melrose looked at Debbie like she was simple.

”Of course I fucking know that Sam likes Ruth."

Debbie threw her hands up.

"WHY do I even care? Go baby Sam if you have to, I was just trying to look out for you.”

She stomped off, barking a ”fuck you” to Melrose on the way.

”Geez, that was a bit of an overreaction even from our resident drama queen.”

”Oh, shut up. She’s trying to look out for me.”

Ruth stomped off in the opposite direction.

”Wow… who pissed in their breakfast cereal?”

Melrose hiked her eyebrows up.

Rhonda leaned closer to Sheila.

”Is it starting to look like those two might be…”

”Yup.”

Sheila stared sagely at Ruth’s retreating back.

***

Ruth found Sam at the bar, like she thought she would. He was drunk and grouchy and all the usual Sam trimmings. She talked him down and got him some coffee, lied and said he was indispensable and that it didn't feel right to do the show without him. She made him call Justine to apologize. Her heart wasn't fully in it, but she doubted that Sam noticed in his one-man pity party.  

"I don't know what I'm doing here", he said mournfully, and Ruth said something empty and perky and Ruth-y to cheer him up. When he got off the bar stool on wobbly legs he looked as if he was going to try to kiss her again, but she dodged it skillfully. She actually liked Sam. But she was sick of him ruining things between her and Debbie. Old Ruth Wilder, the one who slept with Debbie's husband, might have put up with Sam's tortured genius routine. But this Ruth Wilder was done. She drove him back and let him go with a promise that he'd shower.

When she got back to the gym, she lingered in the doorway to drink Debbie in. She always looked beautiful, but there was something about her lately that made Ruth unable to look away. Her treacherous eyes wouldn't accept anything else to rest on.  

She spotted her and came over.

”You found him?”

”Yup.”

"How is he?"

Ruth shrugged.

"Oh, you know. Fine. Whatever. He's Sam."

"Do you want to go over some stuff?"

”Sure. If you have time.”

As they walked toward the ring, Debbie took her arm and stopped her.

”I’m sorry I blew up at you earlier. I just don’t see why everything has to be about Sam all the time."

”It's not. Really.”

She was rewarded with a smile for that comment, for some reason.

It was true. How everything had become about Debbie was a way bigger problem for Ruth.

***

The days before opening night rush by in a whirlwind of freak-outs, tech malfunctions, Sam tantrums and everyone pretending not to get angry at Ray for being constantly in the way and worrying about Bash, who just wasn't himself after Florian's death. Ray and Sam wanted to get another announcer in and they all had to band together and defend Bash, so that he didn't lose the only thing that kept him going.

In the eye of this crazy storm, Ruth used to catch Debbie staring at her, like she was trying to figure something out. Maybe Debbie knew how often Ruth did the same and thought turnabout's fair play. They spent as much time as they could in the ring and learned some spectacular new moves. Ruth became queen of the dibs system. Ruth loved wrestling, but she loved being close to Debbie even more. She had no idea what motivated Debbie, but anything that gave them more time together was fine by Ruth, especially if that time together involved full body contact.

She was in so much trouble.   

***

They pulled it off. They actually pulled a huge Vegas wrestling show off, despite fraught nerves and egos and them still being pretty new at this. Ruth, who rarely got nervous in front of an audience almost did a Carmen when she looked out at the loud crowd. Debbie looked pale and kept wiping her sweaty hands on her tights when she waited for her cue. She had been on a syndicated TV show, sure. But never in front of a live audience this size.   

Afterward, there was a lot of sub-par sparkling wine and loud singing and celebrating in the locker room. Ruth remembered the rush of facing the audience and how they roared when Zoya challenged Liberty Belle. She remembered the feeling of relief when she didn't fuck it up. But most of all, she remembers how Debbie wrapped her arms around her in a bear hug and dug her fingers into the soft muscles of her shoulders and didn't let go. And she remembered how she closed her eyes because her head was spinning, but not from too much cheap wine, but from all of Debbie against all of Ruth.

Ruth felt her touch like an echo all night. Was it in her head that Debbie kept looking at her, focusing on her through the loud celebrations?

***

After the next show, they're alone in the locker room after the other girls have gone. Ruth could have left too, but she made up excuses to stay behind after her shower and wait for Debbie, who'd had to meet some of Ray's friends after the performance. They wanted to talk to the star of the show, or probably just ogle a really hot woman. But Ray was actually an OK guy and since he was the reason they were here, they usually indulged him when he wanted something. Debbie shows up with a bottle of wine and doesn’t ask her if she wants some, she just pours her a glass and puts it down next to her. Sometimes, Ruth forgets that Debbie's still the person who knows her best in this world. She drinks the first glass too fast: watching Debbie undress makes her mouth dry. She stares at Debbie’s lips in the mirror as she wipes her lipstick off. She imagines what it would be like to walk over and kiss it off.

So now, Debbie is standing in the middle of the locker room in this ridiculous lacy bra, transparent enough for Ruth to see the dusky pink of her nipples and it comes with an equally flimsy bottom, showing the feminine curve of her hips and that ass that could sink a thousand ships. Ruth can’t believe that’s what she wore underneath her leotard. She thought she would get used to seeing Debbie in various states of nakedness in the locker room on a daily basis, but she really hadn’t.

Who was she kidding: Debbie was hard to take even in her Liberty Belle outfit. Ruth is sick of pretending she’s not getting to her. She used to pretend it was something else, like jealousy of how richly endowed Debbie was, or embarrassment at how free Debbie was with nudity.

Maybe she slept with Debbie’s husband as a coping mechanism. Her feelings for Debbie were too fragile and too scary. She had to destroy them. That’s what she did, after all, it was her MO, both as Ruth Wilder the Fuckup and as Zoya the Destroya.

She doesn’t even know her own sexuality anymore. Unless ”Debbie about to smash into her in the ring” or ”Debbie in sweatpants, with her hair in a messy ponytail and no makeup” was a sexuality. Or Debbie like this, just the way she looked now, unreasonably attractive in this disheveled state. In that case, she knew.

She enjoyed sleeping with Russell, in a detached sort of way. She had almost managed to keep Debbie out of her mind for half an hour or so. Almost… When he was inside her, the image of Debbie laughing and how beautiful she was when she did flashed through her mind. She told Russell he was a great lover and managed to get back into the moment by trying to figure out how to kiss him without getting a mouth full of moustache. Russell was nice. Nice and easy.

That night, in his bed, she dreamed that she was looking for Debbie in the gym and cried when she couldn’t find her and kept running into Sheila’s dead squirrels everywhere. Debbie, who was a difficult, hot mess and right here, impossible to ignore, making her mouth water and her heart ache.

She snaps back to reality when Debbie speaks, and Ruth realizes she’s been staring at her _again._

”It’s a shame my sex drive has returned with a vengeance since I stopped breast feeding. Because who’ll fucking date a divorced professional wrestler with a kid, saggy tits and a bunch of stretch marks."

There’s nothing _saggy_ about any part of Debbie, especially after months of wrestling. Ruth wished she didn’t know that as well as she did, after hours of looking at her out of the corner of her eye, caressing every devastating curve and line with her eyes.

Debbie sighs.

She absentmindedly runs her hands over her hips and up to cup her breasts. Pensively, not provocatively. Not intentionally, anyway… But Ruth feels mesmerised by the motion. Her heart is racing. But that started as soon as Debbie used the words _sex drive_.

”Come on. Anyone would date you.”

"Really? You would date me? If you were a man...”

"Yes."

She knows the answer is too fast, too eager, like most things Ruth does. But she means it, of course she does. Who wouldn't want Debbie Eagan?

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Anyone would. You're amazing."

”Maybe you should have slept with me and not Mark, if I’m that great.”

Debbie's back to cool sarcasm. There had been a silent agreement not to mention Mark lately, but apparently that was broken now. But Ruth doesn't want to go there. So, she doesn’t.

”Maybe I should.”

She was heading into dangerous territory, she knew that.

Debbie turns around with a strange look on her face. Ruth realizes she’s seen it before, several times since they came to Vegas. She sits down, close, leaning in, in a way Ruth can't decide if it's menacing or… arousing. Maybe both.

"So, you’d...fuck me, Ruth? Like you fucked my husband?"

Debbie’s never talked to her like that before. Never in that tone. Ruth had no idea what to make of it.

"Yes."

Too fast, too eager again. She half expects her to walk out. But she wanted to shock Debbie, take back some of the control she'd always had over her.

It doesn’t work, because they both move and now there's Debbie's lips on hers and her tongue in her mouth and she catches fire. The kiss is sloppy and deep and unsubtle and the hottest thing that has ever happened to Ruth Wilder. Debbie's strong back is still sweaty under her hands, but it turns her on. Ruth puts her hand on Debbie's breast, but pulls it back right away. She doesn't know what this is or how far she's allowed to go. Debbie grabs her wrist and puts it back. The soft sound she makes when Ruth shapes her hand around it makes her pulse race.   

Debbie uses her body weight to push her back against the cold surface. There’s a warm, firm thigh between her legs now and she grinds shamelessly up against her. She puts her hands on Debbie's glorious ass and pulls her desperately closer. Their laboured breathing is the only sound in the cavernous room. Ruth's hands are shaking when she undoes the hooks of Debbie's bra. She can feel how wet Debbie is through the thin material of her underwear.

"No biting. I'm so over biting," Debbie mumbles as Ruth takes her breast in her mouth. Ruth feels her nipple pucker under the flat of her tongue and moans. She swirls her tongue around her areola and Debbie's breath hitches as she arches her chest into her.

Debbie lifts her thigh and Ruth lets out of groan of disappointment but shuts up when it's replaced by her fingers. She throws her head back and has a vague feeling she can taste blood in her mouth from biting her own cheek, but she's not sure, because Debbie's hand on her sex is her entire world of perception now. Ruth is normally too ticklish for neck kissing, but when Debbie flat out licks it, it drives her crazy. She surges up and kisses Debbie, hard.

Ruth can normally find it difficult to come with a new lover. But she feels like she's been through a month’s long foreplay and is finally getting what she needs. She lost every shred of dignity as she arched into Debbie, her hand on her neck contracting involuntarily as she came, leaving wisps of blond in her palm as she unclenched her fist.

Debbie's breathing is heavy and irregular against her neck for a few seconds, before she turns to the side and flops down on her back next to Ruth. Ruth acts on instinct and alcohol induced Dutch courage when she wriggles down and presses her lips against the soaked lace. Debbie makes a sound somewhere between impatient and appreciative. She tugs at the edge and Debbie quickly raises her hips to let Ruth pull the skimpy material down her legs. Her hands still tremble with anticipation. She buries her face between her thighs and groans at the warm, animal taste of her on her tongue. She's kissed girls in theatre school, mostly because she was drunk and enjoyed the feeling of being subversive in some small way. She's never been with a woman. But Ruth knows how Debbie likes it. She knows because they used to be very open with each other and talked about how frustrating it was when men couldn’t be bothered to learn the basics of how women worked. Ruth had an eidetic memory when it came to Debbie. A Debbiedetic memory. So, Ruth knows what she likes and she's going to give it to her.

She runs her tongue flat again Debbie’s slick, warm folds and feels a wild elation when Debbie moans. The hand in her hair is angry and demanding, but Ruth doesn’t mind. She prefers when they use their anger for something constructive. She closes her lips around the swollen bundle of nerves and traces her with her tongue. Debbie swears and pushes her hips into her.

”Fuck, Ruth. You’re really good at that…”

Debbie’s breathless voice makes Ruth’s heart race. She’d always known she could do better than the men Debbie talked about. Be better for Debbie. She adores the warm, slick silk against her lips and the sounds Debbie makes. Her voice reverberates around the bare walls of the high-ceilinged locker room and Ruth feels a wild elation when she gets louder. She goes over with a soft gasp and another curse. Ruth is shocked by the intensity of her climax. She's never really seen another woman come before. It's so hot. Or maybe it's because it's _Debbie_.

Her lover pushes her away, over sensitized. In the back of her head, it occurred to her how strange it was when she rose from her position between Debbie’s thighs, with the animal tang of her arousal on her lips, that she didn’t feel awkward. Ruth still can't believe it's happened: She and Debbie just had sex on the hard bench of an empty Vegas locker room. Debbie was trying to catch her breath next to her.

”That was… Unexpected.”

”Yeah.”

It’s stupid, but Ruth doesn’t know what else to say. Because it really, really was.

Debbie takes a deep breath and gets up. Ruth doesn’t know what to do, so she wraps a towel around herself and sits there, trying not to stare at Debbie when she gets dressed. She can’t find her underwear, but Ruth knows where it is, she’s the one who took it off after all. When she holds them out and Debbie reaches for them, they look at each other and Ruth sees defiance on Debbie’s face, but also something else, maybe a hint of vulnerability. She's not sure if she should tell her there are traces of Zoya's dark red lipstick on her collarbone and neck. Probably on several other places on her body. She'll find out soon enough, that shade is hard to remove.

Ruth wants to ask her to stay. Or ”beg” might be a more appropriate word, but she doesn’t. She has no idea what this means, other than it was the best sex she’s ever had, and she doesn’t want to scare Debbie away.

Debbie stops in the doorway and looks back over her shoulder.

”Happy birthday.”

Ruth teared up.

”Thank you.”

She couldn’t believe she had forgotten her own birthday. Or that Debbie remembered. She got one hell of a birthday present, that’s for sure.


	2. Heaven is a place on earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this doesn't give you diabetes. Thanks for reading, lovelies!

The next day, they have practice and Debbie says hi in an almost normal voice and Ruth answers almost like nothing has happened. Almost.

She's soft and warm and so close, Ruth struggles to focus. They look at each other in the post-throw pile on the floor and Ruth feels Debbie’s breaths getting heavier against her neck. Ruth involuntarily rolls her hips into her thigh.

”Jesus, Ruth. Don’t do that.”

But her pupils are blown, and Ruth can feel how hard her nipples are underneath that skin tight outfit, pressed against her chest. They hit the floor over and over, until Debbie has Ruth pinned down, hands over her head, and looks deep into her eyes until Ruth thinks she might come just from Debbie looking at her. It’s like her body doesn’t understand that they’re not naked together anymore. She feels how she’s wet against the material of her leotard, how there’s a subtle throbbing in the soft parts pressed against the seams.

Sam rolls his eyes and calls out.

”Can we see something else than you two crawling around on the floor, please?”

***

They go outside for "this-is-my-last-cigarette-I'm-quitting-right-after-this-one" break, at Debbie's suggestion.

"How's Russell?"

Ruth had played this conversation out to herself in her head in many versions. None of them involved talking about Russell.

"Good. I think. I think he's good, we're not together anymore, so I haven't heard from him in a while."

"You're not? I thought…"

"...that I cheated on my boyfriend with you, since I have a shitty track record in that department?"

"Yeah. Guess I shouldn't make assumptions."

"It's OK. I guess I deserve it."

They're silent while Debbie finishes her cigarette. There are so many things Ruth wants to say, so many questions she wants to ask. So many, she doesn't know where to start. It doesn’t seem like Debbie knows either.

***

Back in the locker room, Debbie's eyes widen at the clearly finger shaped bruises on Ruth's hips.

"Did I make... Those?"

It's a stupid question. It's not like Ruth's had anyone else's fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips in the last 24 hours. Debbie is probably still just incredulous that it happened. God knows Ruth is.

"I don't mind. It's kind of hot."

They look into each other's eyes and jump apart when Carmen enters the locker room in cheerful ignorance of the tension. Ruth wants her to go away so badly. She wants Debbie to grab her and take her on that hard changing-room bench again and leave more Debbie shaped bruises on her body, to match the ones she already had in her heart and in her mind.

***

She's watching some dumb game show when there's a knock on the door and Debbie's outside. She slams it behind her as she walks in.

”Are you going to kiss me, or are you just going to stand there?”

Oh, Ruth is going to kiss her. She’s so going to kiss her. It’s bruising, and it makes her hot and wet and forget everything but Debbie’s lips and hands. There's a mutual push-and-pull motion until they land in Ruth's bed and by then, Debbie's shirt is already half off, and her hands are working on the button fly of Ruth's jeans.

She slides her hand into Debbie's underwear. Feeling her slippery and slick just from being touched and kissed by her still feels like a fucking miracle and grace she doesn't deserve. Debbie with her chest blushing pink from arousal and kiss swollen lips is the most beautiful thing she's ever seen, she knows that for sure.

"I need you inside me."

Only in her secret masturbation fantasies does Debbie talk to her that way. She snaps out of her frozen adoration and pulls her underwear down with passion-drunk fingers. Slowly, she pushes into the tight, soft velvet and groans at how hot it is. Ruth's heart is hammering against her ribcage as Debbie moves against her fingers, soft walls contracting around her. She's certain that men don't appreciate this enough. She presses her heel of her hand against her clit and Debbie groans again, in that low, smoky bedroom voice she has. Ruth could cry with gratitude that she gets to hear it. That it's for her.

She loses track of time, but she resists it. She wants to remember this. She stills inside of her, her hand resting against Debbie's soft walls.

"Ruth…?"

"Mmhmm?"

"What are you…?"

"Enjoying the moment."

”Damn you if you stop, Ruth. I’m so fucking close.”

Arousal bloomed hot in her belly at the sound of desire in Debbie's breathless voice.

"Show me what you like?"

Ruth whispers in her ear.

She does. She grabs her hand and grinds against it, arching off the bed to get closer. Ruth adds the tiniest bit of pressure and Debbie is rough when she grabs her neck and kisses her as she comes.

Debbie reverse the positions and Ruth spreads her legs for her, pulling her down with her full weight in the cradle of her thighs. She craves her impatience and greed. She throbs as Debbie grabs her wrists and holds them above her head. She feels sweat on her chest and doesn't know if it's hers or Debbie's when they're grinding against each other, heavy breathing the only sound in the room. She feels arousal on her inner thigh and doesn't know whose it is either. Debbie adjusts her position and her slick folds against Ruth's is just enough friction for her to almost come, but not quite. But it's such sweet torture. Debbie takes her nipple in her mouth and Ruth gasps.

"Nice change to be on the other side of this for once…" she mumbles as she sucks softly on her breast.

She's somewhere between pleasure and pain when Debbie relents and kisses her way down her sternum and down to her hips.

"So, I'm probably going to suck at this."

"You don't have to do that if you don't…"

"Of course I fucking do."

She kisses Ruth's inner thigh with surprising tenderness.

"You do not suck at that," Ruth grinds out as Debbie's warm tongue traces her.

She felt like she would do anything to come like this, Debbie's soft blonde hair against her inner thigh and her lips against her sex. She can feel her own arousal trickling down her inner thigh and onto the sheet. She unabashedly pushes her hips against Debbie's tongue before she falls over the edge. Afterward, they kiss, and Ruth tastes herself on Debbie’s tongue and lips and it makes her heart race, because as it turned out, when it was Debbie, tasting herself on her turned her on furiously.

Debbie gets up to leave before Ruth has even had time to catch her breath.

"Do you… want to grab a drink tomorrow, after practice?"

The way Debbie looked at her was like being doused in cold water. She sighed.

”You’re not my friend, Ruth. You’re just someone I fuck sometimes.”

***

”So...You and Debbie made up, huh?”

”Sure. We had a good talk when we got here, about boundaries and working our way back to…”

”Yeah, that’s not what I meant.”

A little giggle escapes Sheila and Ruth stares at her, since it’s so out of character.

”I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But she did. Of course she did.

”You don’t normally wear perfume and I can still smell Dior’s Poison on you from a mile away. Yesterday, it was Obsession. I imagine you’d have to be close to the wearer for quite some time for it to transfer over like that.”

Sheila shrugs.

”I get it. Power struggle and aggression as a precursor to mating. Submission to restore the order of the pack. Alphas and omegas, it’s just nature.”

”Can you stop saying ’submission’, it’s not like I’ve just...”

”That she broke your leg to show dominance doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you.”

”Seriously, Sheila. We’re not wolves.”

She looks at her with that particular Sheila face that clearly says she thinks Ruth is full of shit, but she is above arguing about it since she knows better.

***  
Debbie comes to her room again the following night. She tries to keep her expectations low, but somehow, she knew she would, and she waits for her.

Afterward, Debbie rolls away from her straight away, and it hurts.

”Apparently, resentment is a great aphrodisiac.”

Debbie says it lightly, almost like a joke. But Ruth doesn’t like it. They’re on the right path, or on the path to something new, she’s not sure. There’s not just sorrows and broken dreams between them. Or broken bones. Ruth works so hard to reach her, she’s resentful when Debbie makes light of it. But she doesn't say anything.

Debbie glances at her.

”Do you…want to go again?”

She still does. So much. She loves Debbie like this, aggressive and insatiable, totally focused on Ruth, like she's the center of her universe. She’d always wanted to mean this much to her. She’d prefer it to come from another place than residual anger, but she’d take what she can get.

Sure, some things are complicated between them. But not how she wants Debbie when she looks at her with bedroom eyes, offers her long neck up for kissing and asks if Ruth will go down on her again, in her bedroom voice, an octave lower. There is only Debbie and her response to her touch, and the silky skin under her hands: it all makes perfect sense. When she drinks it in, her lips, pink from kissing, her blushing chest, rosy nipples and the softs folds of her sex, scarlet from arousal and Ruth’s lips on her, she conceded that Sam might be right: if she liked pink things a little less, she wouldn't be in so much trouble.

Debbie bites her shoulder gently; it surprised Ruth how hot it is. Maybe Sheila had a point after all.

Then, Debbie stays the night. She pretends to be asleep when Ruth wraps her arms around her. But she lets her. Later, she curls into her and Ruth pretends to be asleep when Debbie becomes her big spoon. She lies awake and feels her warm curves against her for the longest time.

In the morning, her new lover and old friend looks a little uncomfortable.

”Guess I fell asleep.”

”I slept really well, guess I’m not used to sleeping alone anymore. Thanks for staying.”

”Well, I didn’t mean to, so…”

But she kisses Ruth back for a while, before pushing her away with a wry  
”Don’t push your luck.” But it’s a soft, almost gentle push and the kiss was tender.

Looking in the mirror, Ruth has scratch marks from a passionate lover for the first time in her life. She touches them and smiles.

***

Debbie stays again. And again. After a few weeks, sleeping in each other’s arms has become par for the course, like the long, heavy, intense make-out sessions on each other's beds, or sometimes in a risky corner of the locker room when the other girls are training. Ruth hasn't had a lover who didn't rush through the foreplay to get to the gratification in years. She had forgotten how furiously arousing it was to kiss someone who was fully there for it. Hours of foreplay made Ruth come so hard when they finally let each other finish, and Debbie seemed insatiable.

She still refuses to call it anything but scratching an itch and a convenient friends-with-benefits arrangement even months later. Sometimes, it makes Ruth feel like she's going crazy. How can Debbie not think this is more than just fucking?

But, after all they’ve been through and all the bad blood between them, there’s blond hair in her hair brush and she’s out of shampoo, because Debbie has a lot of hair and Ruth messes it up frequently. Debbie’s all over her space and her things. She presses her nose against the pillow on the right side, ”Debbie’s pillow” as it’s called in Ruth’s head now and inhales the scent of her.

***

They're working on some new moves, and Debbie suggests a night time solo session and Ruth jumps at the opportunity. Being stalked by Debbie in the ring feels different now, like some athletic form of foreplay. Debbie doesn't break eye contact when they circle each other, and Ruth gets distracted and backed into the ropes. Debbie has that look in her eyes, the one she gets when she leaves scratch marks on Ruth’s pale shoulders and makes her so loud before she comes, she’s worried about the other girls hearing them. The look that makes Ruth wet and her nipples hard and her pulse race.

She gets up on tip-toe and Debbie meets her half-way. Ruth feels her breath on her lips and the scent of the lip gloss she wears when she’s not in full make-up. Ruth knows for sure that she will never tire of feeling Debbie’s body against her own, all the warm curves and the need just under the surface, waiting to erupt. She still has problems comprehending that she’s getting access to all this loveliness.

She’s being kissed now, slowly, deeply. Subconsciously, she spreads her legs and Debbie grinds gently against her, pushing her further against the ropes. Ruth marvels at how their soft moaning reverberates in the big hall as she moves against Debbie's thigh, trying to create friction.

”Debbie? If you don’t stop, I’m going to…”

”Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

***

"Can I borrow you ladies for a few moments?"

Ray smiles his usual friendly smile, but something hints that he's a little more amused at something than he usually is.

”There are 24-hour security cameras here. They operate 24 hours a day.”

“Hence the name, I presume?” Ruth gives him a friendly smile.

Debbie is the first one to get his point and goes pale. Ruth follows and gives her a panicked look. Why hadn't they assumed there would be security cameras in a big Las Vegas wrestling gym? Debbie looks disgusted with herself.

"Don't worry, you're not the first. I caught YoYo on tape doing the nasty with an ex-girlfriend at my club."

”You obviously didn’t fire her.”

”Fire her? Why would I do that, she’s one of my most popular girls, it would be bad for business. Besides, I like her.”

Ray laughed.

”Had to tell her she needed to have sex on her own dime, yah know? When she’s on mine, she needs to be there for the customers, not do her own thing.”

"You're weren't even using my time; the security guard says you do a lot of after-hours training. That has to be good for my show, as long as there's some actual wrestling done too."

Ray winked at them.

”But don’t worry, it was good for me too.”

Debbie’s jaw clenches.

”Careful, Peeping Tom.”

”I didn’t watch it, I was joking. I’m not vouching for the security guard, but I own strip joints, I can watch women in and out of skimpy outfits whenever, I don’t have to peep on my other entertainers. But maybe stick to your rooms if you don’t want to be ogled is all I'm saying.”

We waved a tape in front of them.

"This is the only copy. As a courtesy, it's yours."

Debbie snatches it form him with a faux sweet smile.

”I thought you guys were...whaddayah call it, frenemies?”

”We are,” Debbie says coolly, trying to preserve whatever dignity could be had out of the situation.

It hurts Ruth’s feelings, even if it’s more or less true. At least for Debbie.

Ray laughs.

”Frenemies with benefits, huh? Nice!”

"Have you... told Sam?"

Ray hikes his eyebrows up as he looks at Ruth.

"Why would I tell Sam, what's he got to do with it?"

"Right. What's Sam got to do with this."

Debbie's suddenly angry, like being caught almost having sex on security cameras is nothing, but mentioning Sam is a problem. She walks away and leaves Ruth smiling awkwardly at Ray, holding a tape of them making out in the gym.

***

Debbie stays away for three days and Ruth is sad and lonely and crabby when she talks to the other girls. She can handle when she goes home to be with Randy. But when she’s here and still won’t be near her is insufferable. She hates sleeping alone and she hates the distance between them. She knows they should talk about why Sam makes Debbie furious. But Ruth knows that her passive aggressive sulking isn't about Debbie's reaction to Sam, it's about how Debbie made her feel when she called them frenemies. There is no feeling or sensation in relation to Debbie that ends with -enemies for Ruth and she hates that Debbie isn't there with her.

***

When she finally comes back, Debbie looks sad and frustrated standing in the doorway, so maybe she's not the only one who's been upset these last few days. Ruth knows she should say no until they've worked things out, but she has no self-control when it comes to Debbie, so it's not even five minutes after she knocked on her door that they're tearing at each other's clothes.

After sex, Debbie stares at the ceiling and sighs.

”Why do we keep doing this toxic fucking thing over and over again?”

But Ruth won’t have it. She will take a lot from Debbie, but somewhere, she had to draw the line.

”This is not toxic. In a lot of ways, it’s the least toxic thing we do. If you need to tell yourself that, fine. But I refuse to call it something it’s not.”

She turns her angry back to Debbie and half expects her to get up and walk out.

Instead she sighs and mutters ”OK, fine, whatever.” and then wriggles closer and wraps her arms around her. And Ruth lets her. Because of course Ruth lets her.

***

Debbie got a phone call and Ruth heard just from the timbre of her voice that was bad news. She'd never seen her like this. Her hands were shaking, and she was ghostly pale underneath the layer of peach blusher.

"My God, what is it?"

"It's Randy. He's… He's really sick, that was Mark calling from the hospital. He's got a fever and they don't know what it is and… There aren't any flights until tomorrow."

Debbie tries to pick up her keys and they clang to the floor.

"I'll drive you home."

"I can't ask you to do that, I'm perfectly fine to drive on my own."

"Really?"

She took one of Debbie's trembling hands in her own to prove her point.

"We need our star alive for the show in two days and also, I kind of like you, so I really need you not to die in a traffic accident because you're too freaked out to drive safely."

"You'd...do that for me?"

Ruth felt almost annoyed for a moment.

"Of course I would. I'd do anything for you, that hasn’t changed."

Ruth went to talk to Sam while Debbie got her things together. He was predictably crabby about it, but not even Sam could deny a mother the right to see her sick child. He didn't see why Ruth had to go, of course.

"Debbie wants to bring the woman who slept with her husband to her husband's house to babysit her sick kid? In what world does that even make sense?"

"In a world where she's my friend and she needs someone with her to support her."

"No, I need you here. Bash can go with her."

"Bash? In what world would that make sense?"

Sam shrugged.

"He's kind of useless, we can spare him? That world."

"You know what? I don't have time for this."

"You can't just take time off whenever it suits you."

"Whenever it suits me? I showed up for work with broken bones!"

She suddenly felt sick to death of Sam and his moods.

"That's it, I'm going."

"You know, I can fire you if I want to."

"So, fire me."

Maybe she shouldn't have said it, but nothing mattered right now except for Debbie's pale, terrified face.

"How did he take it?"

"As well as could be expected."

"So, it was a total fucking mess, then."

"Yup."

Cherry and Keith has driven their car out here and it's no Cadillac, but it's way better than Ruth's old car, so it's still a step up.

They traveled the four hours through darkness mostly in silence, Ruth sensing that perky pop songs on the radio wouldn't suit Debbie's mood. Ruth tried not to get annoyed at the restless thrumming of her fingers against the dashboard, she knew she had to get rid of that nervous energy somehow. When they got low on gas, Debbie wordlessly got her a coffee while she filled the tank.

When they arrived, Mark came out to meet them and Ruth understood perfectly why he looked like he saw a ghost when she got out of the car.

"Hi. You brought… Ruth…?

"How's Randy?"

”Much better.”

Mark answered her question, sensing correctly that Debbie had no time for anything besides the welfare of her child. She couldn't blame him for giving her a nervous side eye as they entered the house. Debbie ran to Randy’s room and scooped him up out of his crib.

Ruth looked at Mark.

"Last flight already left and it didn't feel safe for her to drive when she was this upset."

"Probably for the best."

He nodded nervously.

So, there they were. Mark, his new girlfriend and his ex-wife’s new lover, the woman he'd cheated on his wife with. Ruth thought to herself that this play would have gotten poor reviews in some off-Broadway theatre for being too farfetched, plot-wise. Add that his ex-wife and her female lover that he had cheated on her with were also professional wrestlers and it wouldn't have been produced at all, too weird even for some 80-seater off-off-Broadway. It was supremely awkward. Ruth was suddenly terrified that she might start giggling or some other hysterical and inappropriate behavior.

"So… I should go."

She called out to Debbie.

"Call me later, OK? I'm off to find a hotel room for the night."

Debbie came out of Randy's bedroom, her sleeping son drooling lightly on her shoulder, with a panicked look on her face.

"Nono… Stay. Please?"

Susan smiled, like nothing strange was going on.

"I'll go make some coffee."

Mark's new girlfriend is sweet, as it turns out. Ruth wants to tell her to avoid eye contact with Debbie, for her own safety. But she’s super sweet, really. But then there's Debbie and it's incomprehensible to Ruth how anyone could choose not to be with her, given the chance. In drama school, she would have considered marriage and life in the suburbs a bourgeois nightmare. Right now, the idea of waking up in a house like this on a lazy Saturday morning, kissing Debbie in the kitchen with the gentle drip-drip-drip of the coffee maker in the background, knowing you had a whole day to show her how grateful you were you had this life together, sounded pretty close to paradise. Ironic for a homewrecker. Ruth knew that Mark's girlfriend's only flaw was that she wasn't Debbie. But that was a pretty huge flaw, in Ruth's opinion.

Debbie spends the night on a blanket next to Randy's crib with her baby's sticky little hand in hers. And that means, so does Ruth. Because she can't leave Debbie alone with that look of panic in her eyes, it's not fair. She wakes up from her half-sleep at dawn and sneaks off to the uncomfortable camp bed Mark's girlfriend set up, so Mark doesn't have a freak-out when he finds her spooning his ex-wife on the floor of their son's room.

Debbie’s mom shows up with breakfast and overbearing hovering.

"You know, to be honest I was afraid you girls had grown apart. It was always Rut this and Ruth that and then nothing! It makes me happy to see that you're still inseparable. You could always figure something out to put a smile on Debbie's face, Ruth."

They looked at each other. Not laughing at that comment was greatest accomplishment of both their acting careers.

Later, when Mark walks in, Ruth almost feels sorry for how embarrassed he is when he finds Randy in Ruth’s arms and not Debbie’s.

”She had to go to the bathroom.”

”OK.”

He didn’t know where to look.

”But hey, seems like the fever broke, so… He seems to be doing much better.”

”That’s great news.”

”Yeah…”

Debbie returns and holds her arms out for Randy.

”Thanks.”

Absentmindedly, she kisses Ruth’s temple, like they were an old couple who do PDA all the time. Mark stared with raised eyebrows, probably just shocked that Debbie and Ruth suddenly seemed to get along like a house on fire, not because he suspected anything else. Ruth was there with him: apart from during wrestling, Debbie rarely if ever touched her in public or with other people around.

Ruth accidentally falls asleep on a pink chaise ( _tacky fucking color_ Debbie mumbled when she saw it) and wakes up to find that Debbie's covered her with her jacket and it smells just like her perfume and that scent that's pure Debbie, and a little bit of Randy's formula. Ruth buries her nose in it and inhales. It's funny how it feels like home.

Randy's fever is really gone, and he’s slept for long enough to get restless and Ruth and Debbie take him for a walk in the park. It feels absurd how they've gone from angry, complicated sex in empty Vegas locker rooms to this weird semblance of family life. They laugh at the extreme weirdness of the whole situation; how nervous Mark is and how clueless Susan is of his discomfort. They assume he hasn't told his fiancé that he's slept with not just one, but both of the women currently in their home.

Debbie tears up when Ruth says they should get going if they want to make it back to Vegas on time for training. So, Ruth goes to call Sam to say they'll be late, because she can't bear to see Debbie cry anymore. There’s been enough of that.

He predictably makes a big scene about it, even though Ruth explains that they have the scenes down and that she's wrestling Debbie this week and they're a well-oiled machine by now. She loses her temper again.

"So, fire me then."

She slams the phone down.

"That was pretty badass."

Debbie's obviously heard the conversation. They look into each other's eyes and if it hadn't been for Randy and Mark, she's pretty sure she would have been kissed right now.

Instead, Debbie makes fondue, because the scene isn't absurd enough as it is, but she does have a point that they still need to eat and apparently, Mark can barely boil an egg and Susan is a bad cook. Debbie isn't. So, they eat and converse awkwardly. But it could have been worse and Randy gurgles happily in his baby seat, like this is a perfectly normal family dinner.

Mark says he'll sit with Randy so that Debbie can get some sleep and she agrees, since he's so much better. Ruth sleeps in the camp bed this time, since she doesn't think another sleepless night is great for road safety. In the middle of the night, Debbie comes padding and climbs in next to her. The narrow bed barely fits two people, but they manage as Debbie wiggles as close as she can and buries her face in the crook of Ruth's neck.

***

They leave at dawn the next day and Ruth insists on driving again. Debbie’s protests are half-hearted. She can’t read Debbie like she used to, but she can still tell when she’s objecting just to save face. It was the right call. None of them had slept much lately, but she hadn’t gone through the same emotional rollercoaster of panicking over her sick child, so she was probably still the safer driver. Debbie slept soundly with her head against the car window for most of the drive, for once not a put-together vision, but a messy-haired, dark-circled, exhausted single mother with no make-up and a stain on her shirt. Ruth smiled softly when she glanced at her. Debbie was always beautiful to her, it had nothing to do with the clothes or hair or make-up. It was the woman underneath that made her heart race.

”Can you keep your eyes on the road and not make my child motherless, please?”

”Sure.”

There’s no one in front of them for miles, but she humors her.

Debbie contradicts her road safety PSA by taking one of Ruth’s hands off the wheel and entangling their fingers. Ruth refrains from pointing out that driving with one hand isn’t exactly safe, because there’s no way she’s going say no to this. Debbie lets go after a few moments and her hand slides down to Ruth’s thigh and leaves it there. It doesn’t feel flirty at all, just a comfort thing.

She sleeps the rest of the way like that, with her hand on Ruth, like there’s been some alterations to the contract between them and Ruth didn’t get the memo that they’re now also doing this, not just hiding away in motel rooms and dodging the other girls when leaving each other’s rooms.

There are so many things Ruth wants to tell her. Like how if she through some sort of immaculate conception had been accidentally pregnant with Debbie’s child, she would have kept it.  
When they get out of the car, Debbie takes her hand. They don't normally hold hands, but it's not like Ruth's going to say no to that either.

With their normal luck, they run into Sam. He looks at their hands and Ruth waits for the moment when Debbie yanks hers back and says it’s not what it looks like. She doesn’t. She raises her chin in what Ruth knows to be her fighting stance and holds on tighter.

”What is this? Some goddamn love story now?”

Debbie shrugs.

”Maybe. What it also is, is none of your damn business.”

”Maybe it’s my business because every time there’s a change in the terror balance between you two it’s bad news for my goddamn show? I think you’re getting along and bam, there are broken bones.”

”It was only one broken bone… Not bones plural.”

Both Sam and Debbie glare at Ruth.

”Not helping…” Debbie muttered, but still didn’t let go of her hand.

”Really, Ruth? It’s OK because it was only one broken bone?”

Sam isn’t even just rude and sarcastic anymore, he’s just furious. Debbie seems to bring it out in him.

”So, hating each other is fine, but if we get along it’s a huge problem?”

Ruth can feel how Debbie’s building up to a fit of rage just from the tension in her hand.

”Baby, don’t. Let’s just go?”

She turns to Sam and stares daggers at him, telling him with her eyes to leave this alone.

”Everything is fine, Sam.”

She dragged a reluctant Debbie to her room and shut the door. It wasn’t until she got inside that she realized she’d called Debbie "baby". Debbie hated nicknames and they weren’t even a couple. She waited to see if she would call her out on it. Nothing. Maybe she hadn’t heard it?

But she held her hand in front of Sam and didn’t let go. Ruth was so confused.

Debbie paced the floor.

”Fucking Sam…Trust him to shit his pants when we're actually doing well for a change.”

”You two really bring it out in each other, huh?”

Debbie smiled mirthlessly.

”No, Ruth. You do.”

”What do you mean?”

”God damn it, Ruth… Tell me you know he’s in love with you? That’s why he’s such an asshole, it has nothing to do with me, it’s about me fucking you.”

"What…? I mean he tried to kiss me, but I don't think he's…"

"It's fortunate that I find your cluelessness kind of endearing."

Debbie sat down heavily.

"I don't like the way he treats you. I'm the only one who gets to be an asshole to you."

"Well, you've been kind of bad at that part lately. Maybe he thinks it's his job now that you're not doing it properly."

"I'm not sleeping with you to be nice. You're weirdly good in bed, so maybe I'm just an asshole that uses you for sex."

The underhanded compliment made Ruth’s heart swell.

"I’m a pretty willing participant."

Ruth takes a chance and goes over and hugs her. Debbie wraps her arms around her waist and presses her face into Ruth's stomach.

"I don't like the way he looks at you."

”I don't care. I only care how you look at me.”

It was bold. But she felt like Debbie had opened a door when she held her hand and let her call her a stupid, sentimental endearment.

"I'm so tired. Can we go to sleep?"

Ruth answered yes breathlessly, like Debbie had suggested something way more salacious. This would be the second time they slept together without having sex. The sort of thing you might do in a relationship.

Lying next to her, Debbie caresses her cheekbone with the back of her hand. She looks at her with a frown.

”You have the prettiest eyes…”

She groans.

”Urgh, I don’t know where all this sugary shit comes from. Sorry.”

Ruth thinks her heart might stop and she might die here in Debbie’s arms when she says things like that. She counts the absence of a heartbeat onetwothree, but it’s just Ruth holding her breath, she knows her heart doesn’t actually stop.

”You can’t say nice things to me, I might get a heart attack from the shock…"

She touches the soft spot behind Debbie’s ear when she kisses her; that place that always makes her sigh and relax into the kiss.

”...and then you’ll have no heel.”

”And no fuckbuddy, which I seem to need even more, since I seem to want it all the time lately. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

”Well… Me.”

”You’re such a nerd.”

Her voice is affectionate. She flops over on her belly and yawns. It’s hardly the first time she’s stayed the night, but Ruth gets excited every single time her body language signals that she’s not going anywhere.

She kisses Debbie’s back, softly, tracing her wrestling defined muscles with her lips. They pretend that this isn’t tenderness. Romance, even.

***

Ruth comes out of the bathroom the following morning and finds Debbie pacing the worn carpet with an annoyed look on her face. Or maybe it’s worry, Ruth can’t decide.

“What’s wrong?”

”You’re not my friend, Ruth.”

She sighs. Debbie has said it so many times, it shouldn’t hurt anymore. But it does. Debbie hurts, always. She hurts when they’re together and even more when they’re apart. So, Ruth tries to stay close to minimize the damage.

Debbie takes a step back and touches her face in one of those undeniably ”Debbie” gestures that made Ruth’s heart ache with tenderness, these days.

”You’re not my friend, so why do I have this fucking feeling that I might be your…girlfriend now? Or something?”

Ruth closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Debbie calling herself her girlfriend makes her heart beat so hard it’s unpleasant. She’s never wanted anything like she wanted that statement to be true. She knows it can’t be this easy. She’s going to have to fight for this.

She didn’t realize it would be literally, because Carmen knocks on their door and wants to start rehearsals early.

There’s no way Ruth can focus on wrestling after what Debbie has just said, though. When they get in the ring, Ruth assumes battle stance, cups her neck and looks Debbie straight in the eye.

”Are you?”

”Fuck you, Ruth. I asked you first.”

Debbie pushes her, like it’s the start of a fight. But not hard. It’s an empty gesture.

”Are you, Debbie?”

”What the fuck Ruth, can we focus on wrestling, please?”

Ruth forgets to duck the clothes line and slams down on the floor. Debbie’s not prepared for that, so Ruth trips her up and brings her down on the floor with her. She turns her head and looks at Debbie.

”Are you my girlfriend now?”

”It wouldn’t even be the weirdest thing that’s happened in the last year.”

”So…?”

”OK, fuck it. I’m your girlfriend, I guess. Don’t let it get to your head.”

Debbie sounded bored and a little angry. But Ruth didn’t care. Debbie had used the words your and girlfriend in the same sentence. Ruth had never flown like she did during that rehearsal, never been so light on her feet.

***

That night, Debbie casually brought a toothbrush to Ruth’s room and her own shampoo, since she claimed Ruth’s made her hair frizzy.

”I fucking hate that constitution wallpaper.”

They both knew the wallpaper had nothing to do with it.

Debbie tried to lead and dictate the rules like she normally did in bed that night. Ruth shook her head and gently captured her hands above her head.

”This is a dibs-based system.” she whispered.

So far, sex with Debbie had been this hot headrush of a rollercoaster ride, anger that looked suspiciously like passion and passion that looked suspiciously like anger. Sleeping in each other's arms, pretending it wasn’t deeply intimate. A form of emotional wrestling, in a way.

Ruth realized that she’d still been holding back, just a little, to save herself from heartbreak. But there was no saving herself, not with Debbie, there never had been.

She kissed the last of the anger away that night, with infinite patience. She traced Debbie’s angular jawline, her sharp cheekbones and her long neck with her lips. And Debbie let go and became soft and pliable in her arms, leaning into the touch, warm, relaxed and unguarded, as Ruth covered her in kisses and adoration.

Ruth almost said I love you. But this shiny new thing was too fragile, she had no idea if it would hold for declarations of love. She whispered it quietly against the soft dip above Debbie’s hip when she kissed her there. It’s the first time she’s said it to a lover and been sure.

Debbie looked into her eyes when she made her come, for the first time that night.

Afterward, they lie side by side and held hands and looked at the fake peach clouds on the ceiling.

”Is it just me, or does it feel like this shitshow was always heading in this direction, somehow?”

Debbie sounds like she really wants to know.

”You mean...us?”

”Yeah…”

Ruth had been drawn to Debbie, moth-to-flame style, ever since they met. In the beginning, she hadn’t read anything into it. Debbie was just one of those people. Everyone wanted to be close to her or wanted something from her. Ruth had been surprised Debbie had picked her out of all the people vying for her attention. That Debbie had been drawn to her like she had been drawn to Debbie, right from the start, boggled her mind.

”Remember when you said something about shiny people and people who had to be the sidekicks of them and I was supposedly one of ’shiny’?”

”Yeah.”

She cringed when she remembered how Mark had been there and how he used that as an excuse for them to betray Debbie, and she had fallen for it.

Debbie drew a line down her arm with the tip of her finger. It left goosebumps in its wake. Debbie’s control over her body was almost total by now.

”You were always shiny to me, Ruth.”

***

Debbie went home to see Randy and Ruth missed her like you miss water, or maybe a limb. But this time, Debbie called her every night and Ruth's heart beat so hard every time she heard the phone ring, sitting in her room waiting for it like some love-sick teenager. They talked about nothing, just to enjoy the sound of each other’s voice, until Debbie's mother complained the phone bill was going to be a fortune and they had to hang up.

"Calling you from my mother's house makes me feel like a teenager again, it's pathetic."

"But kind of hot. What are you wearing?"

"For fucks sake Ruth, I'm not going to have phone sex in front of the baby."

"Sorry, I didn't know Randy was there."

"Really, Ruth? Of course I can have phone sex in front of the fucking baby, he doesn't know the difference. But I have to feed him, so you'll have to hold that thought."

"OK, fine. But I miss you…"

"Miss you too."

Ruth brought herself to climax that night with the memory of Debbie's soft whispered miss you too in her ear and the image of her padding to the shower on soft feet, naked, on the morning of the flight.

The next night, Ruth heard a crash and woke up with a start. She looked out into the hallway. It was Sam, drunk again. Nothing new there, but this time he was truly wasted. She sighed. Vegas had not been kind to Sam. Ruth wasn't sure he had ever truly recovered from finding out that Mothers and Lovers was already made as Back to Future.

It wasn't her job, but she actually liked him, and he had been there for her, so she had to go and pick up the pieces again. It took a lot of coaxing and she had to listen to a monologue about how Sam was misunderstood as a director, how modern movie making lacked panache and how he missed Justine.

"I'm not a hugger", he said mournfully as Ruth hugged him, trying to make it supportive and not suggestive that something might come of it. She pulled his cowboy boots off when he fell asleep mid monologue and put a blanket over him.

Just as she opened the door, there was Debbie walking down the hall, obviously from Ruth’s room. She must have found it empty. She looked at Ruth, barefoot, rumpled and in sleepwear, coming out of Sam's room. Her face turned into a stiff mask and she slammed the door behind her when she disappeared back into her room.

Ruth swore to herself. Debbie hadn't been due back from California until tomorrow. It took her almost ten humiliating minutes outside of Debbie's room before Debbie could be convinced to let her in.

"I know what that looked like… But Sam was blind drunk and almost woke the entire place up, I just had to get him to bed before that happened. I didn't have time to put more clothes on."

She rolled her eyes.

"Not like that. Get him to sleep, I mean. Debbie… I'm not going to sleep with Sam, I promise."

”You said sleeping with Mark ’just happened’. Maybe Sam will ’just happen” too.

”It’s different, and you know it.”

”Do I? Different how?”

”It’s different because… I love you.”

Debbie freezes. Just when Ruth thinks she’s made a terrible mistake, she takes a long, shaky breath and folds her arms defensively over her chest.

”You didn’t love me before, when you slept with Mark?”

Her voice was small.

”I did. But we were friends and the last thing you needed was another person talking to your boobs instead of your face or to ask you to be what they needed and not what you needed, so when I realized I was in love with you I didn’t say anything. And then I ruined it...

”Damn it, Ruth, it’s not the same. You actually fucking like me, for some reason. Even when I’m a bitch and don’t deserve it. Like _me_ , not just...this.”

She gestured vaguely to herself and the obvious beauty that stopped people from seeing or caring that she had a personality. She didn’t say it back, but that was OK. Ruth got it. It would mean giving up the last vestiges of control.

”Can you...try to not to break my heart right now? Because I’m kind of fucking fragile at the moment and I guess I… Need you.”

Ruth walked into her arms.

”Trusting the woman who broke my heart not to break my heart is a new level of insane, even for me.”

”No, it isn’t. I’m going to show you that it isn’t.”

***

Standing in the green room of the arena waiting to enter as Liberty Belle and Zoya, Debbie takes her hand. Ruth closes her eyes. She breathes in time with the movement of Debbie’s thumb over the heel of her hand and thinks to herself that this is as close to a perfect moment she would ever come. The sound of the crowd and Debbie’s hand in hers: nothing could top this feeling.

The door opens, and Debbie gets her cue to enter. Before she lets go, she glances at Ruth.

”I love you too.”

She strides in and the crowd roars out its excitement. Ruth had been wrong about that perfect moment.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @ClillaryHinton1 on Twitter. Talk Debbie to me? Or you know, whatever you want. I think I'm also Clillary Hinton on Tumblr, if I/you can find it, I keep forgetting I have it.
> 
> Sponsored by Jane Fonda and Pink Things.


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